


Cherry Blossoms, in Bloom

by totallycheesey



Category: RWBY
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, CrimSun, Dirty Talk, M/M, Some Humor, Spanking, Spoilers, can i just say: wow, cannon (as of volume 3 finale), please let this story break your heart because man i spent a long time trifling over metaphors, there needs to be more content for this pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 09:06:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6368596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totallycheesey/pseuds/totallycheesey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sun watched Adam skeptically. “You’re trying really hard to make this a gay thing, aren’t you.”<br/>	Raising an eyebrow, Adam said, “It’s either a gay thing or a just-before-you-kill-me thing. Which do you prefer?”<br/>	“Neither.” Sun’s lips lifted apart briefly as he licked to wet them. He followed Adam’s gaze, which was caught on Sun’s tongue. It was definitely a gay thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cherry Blossoms, in Bloom

**Author's Note:**

> Sex. Humor. Angst. I busted my ass on this piece, so the hits/kudos/bookmarks/comments are more than appreciated.
> 
> Also: please let this inspire you to add to the content of this pairing. As things stand, I believe this is the only piece dealing with an Adam/Sun (CrimSun) pairing. Please let this change. Please write. Please draw. We need it.

            Sun pounded on the door. Hard.

            He waited a moment.

            The period of forgiveness passed, and he smashed his fist into the wood again, only a few units of force shy of breaking through the door entirely. The hinges snarled in protest, and as Sun debated actually destroying the door, the panel of wood gave way inward, thudding dully against the wall of the apartment. Adam stood in the frame, hand on the wood where Sun’s bones left marks, like bruising.

            “Did Blake send you?” Adam asked. His face was drawn calm beneath the mask.

            Rage fired through Sun’s muscles and settled over his shoulders. “Actually, this was my idea.”

            Adam crossed his arms and scoffed. “You want me dead.”

            Sun’s eyes narrowed.

            Yawning, Adam stretched. “I’m not impressed. A bunch of people want me dead, and a few of those people actually had the balls to try. What makes you think you’ll be the one to end me?”

            “For me, it’s personal.” He flexed his fingers, an attempt to will the tension away.

            Under the mask, an eyebrow raised. “That’s what they all say.” After a silence for thought, Adam gestured into the space behind him and said, “Come on in.”

            Sun paused. “What?”

            “You aren’t killing me in my doorway. Get your ass in here or leave. We can deal with this now or later, it doesn’t bother me. Just know that my schedule is packed on Thursday.” There was no hint of a grin on Adam’s face, but Sun could tell there was a smile in his eyes. The fucking mask. Sun would smash it when he got the chance.

            He pushed past Adam roughly, walking straight down a short hall into what was likely the largest room in the apartment, the living room. Sun turned around sharply to watch Adam, back to the wall. Adam sauntered in towards Sun after closing the door.

            The two stood, quiet. Adam said, “Don’t make this awkward. Do you want a drink?”

            “You cut off Yang’s fucking arm.” Sun’s voice threatened to shake.

            “I’ll take that as a yes,” Adam muttered, turning to the kitchen.

Sun trailed after him by a few steps, keeping comfortable distance while not letting Adam out of sight. “You keep going after Blake, after the people close to her. She’s not yours. I wouldn’t even call her mine. She’s Blake.”

            “You wouldn’t call her yours even though you’re her new boy toy? I guess I know who tops in this relationship.” Adam pulled whiskey from a cabinet and tipped it upward, drinking straight from the mouth of the bottle. The kiss of the drunkard, Qrow called it. Sun agreed; it seemed that Adam was doing more than just drinking. He could see Adam’s tongue slip into the bottle slightly, just past the lips, just visible through the glass, before Adam held out the bottle to Sun.

            Before Sun could help it, the automatic response fled his body: “I’m underage.” He bit his lip, hard. Great. Like Adam needed _more_ material to work with in acting like a dick.

            It was worse than Sun could have predicted; Adam laughed, hard. “You – you’re going to kill me and you won’t even drink? God, you’re adorable, Sun, you really are.”

            Sun blushed. “Shut the hell up.”

            A nasty grin framing his sharp teeth, Adam pushed the whiskey onto the counter and said, “I guess it’s safe to assume that you and Blake haven’t even fucked yet. Since, you know, you’re underage and all that.”

            “I’m eighteen, assmunch. How fucking old are you?” Sun knew that Adam is just toying with him. He _knew_. But there was nothing he could do to stop himself from slamming into every possible wall to embarrass himself in front of the guy he was supposed to take revenge on. The experience was supposed to end in bloodshed, not trivialities. He was quickly growing more and more thankful that Blake ran away, that she would never know about his encounter with Adam.

            Adam shrugged. “Does it matter? Older than you.” But there was an edge of discomfort, something that Sun had never felt from Taurus.

            He stepped closer to Adam, only a couple feet away. Easily a stride from either of the two snapping the other’s neck. “How old are you?”

            Adam’s lips parted briefly. Sun watched the faintest shade of pink bloom across Adam’s cheeks, like cherry blossoms in the spring. Slowly, Adam said, “Twenty-four.” The number was led into the air and left to droop, to die between them like a secret.

            “Only six years between us,” Sun said, to dispel the quiet. He didn’t know why he was trying to free Adam from his latent discomfort. Killing Adam wasn’t supposed to be comfortable for either party.

            It worked, though. Adam offered, “Yeah. Six years and a hell of a lot of violence.”

            Sun watched Adam’s face carefully. It attempted to gather back into the cool demeanor of before, but this time, the façade was shabbier, more forced. It seemed that Adam, exposed by the previous question, was held captive inside.

            Slowly, Sun raised his hands to Adam’s head, settling on either side of the mask.

            Adam’s hands closed around Sun’s wrists like chain links. Loose, warm. A blunt threat.

            Fingers pushing beneath the metal of the mask, Sun said, “Let me.”

            “No,” Adam whispered. He may have sounded scared if he weren’t so detached.

            Sun pried at the edges until he found the skin beneath with his hands, soft and heated. Adam’s face was still concealed. “Please,” Sun said.

            Adam’s hands fell away.

            The mask slid off in Sun’s grip smoothly, machine-like. Sun watched as Adam’s dark eyes squinted before quickly adjusting to the light. Adam pushed the hair out of his face, high cheekbones pale as the rest of him, eyebrows expressive in a way that Sun couldn’t have figured with the mask still on.

            “I finally understand why Blake was with you for so long,” Sun said. Adam was a fucking prize.

            Smiling faintly, Adam replied, “I’ve been told I have some pretty good looks.”

            “I almost want to say that ‘pretty good’ is an understatement.” Sun held out the mask. “Why were you even hiding your face at your apartment?”

            Adam took the metal face and set it on the counter beside the bottle. “In case people like you come along and try to take me by surprise. Most of the time, I don’t even sleep with it off.”

            “So you must feel pretty naked right now,” Sun said. He didn’t apologize for the expression this time. His slip-ups bothered him less and less as Adam became more and more like an actual person rather than a figure from his disappeared girlfriend’s fucked-up past.

            Shaking his head, Adam said, “Being naked doesn’t bother me half as much.”

            Sun gave in. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

            “Then which way did you mean it?”

            Sun watched Adam skeptically. “You’re trying really hard to make this a gay thing, aren’t you.”

            Raising an eyebrow, Adam said, “It’s either a gay thing or a just-before-you-kill-me thing. Which do you prefer?”

            “Neither.” Sun’s lips lifted apart briefly as he licked to wet them. He followed Adam’s gaze, which was caught on Sun’s tongue. It was definitely a gay thing.

            Okay. This was the highest (and only) advantage Sun had over Adam. He was damn well going to put it to use.

            Sun shoved aside the whiskey bottle and hopped up on the counter, spreading his knees. Adam took the usual step back to activate a “no-homo” effect, but they were still only a couple of feet apart. Plus, Sun now could pull his shirt apart a little, to expose even more of the tan abs that textured his chest.

            “So. You’re just on the counter now?” Adam’s arms crossed again, like they had in the doorway. “Does this happen a lot?”

            Sun shrugged. “I have a tail n’ shit, how is this a surprise?”

            “I guess it really shouldn’t be.”

            “Mm.” A silence settled between them. This was Sun’s opportunity to stir some shit up. His eyes met Adam’s, the two colors merging in focus. “C’mere.”

            Suspicion rose in Adam’s shoulders the way hair raises on a cat’s back. “Why?”

            Sun took a pouting face. “What, you don’t trust me?” When no response was given on Adam’s part, Sun said, “I wanna tell you a secret.”

            Rolling his eyes, Adam said, “Just tell me now, no one’s gonna hear. The walls are soundproof.” Many, many people had likely met their ends in this apartment, between its soundproof walls.

            Sun shook his head adamantly. “Get your ass over here or I’m not telling you anything.”

            “Whatever.” But Adam strode forward, until he was less than a foot away from Sun and positioned between his legs.

            Perfect. Sun grabbed a fistful of Adam’s blazer and yanked him forward, slamming his thighs around Adam’s waist on either side. _Could kill him right now,_ Sun mused. _But that wouldn’t be as fun. Plus, with Blake gone…_

            Taller than Adam by a couple of inches from his position on the counter, Sun leaned down to whisper in Adam’s ear, “You’re pretty cute. Wanna fuck around?” Sun threaded his spare hand through the red-brown of Adam’s hair, tugging back barely hard enough to expose Adam’s neck. The thought ran through his head that maybe Adam was feigning the interest to distract Sun from his original objective of murder, but as Sun licked a line up the pale expanse of Adam’s jaw, Adam moaned a low _yes_ , and the thought was gone.

            To be certain, though. Sun stopped for a second. “You’re sure?”

            “What the fuck else am I gonna do with my day?”

            Sun ruffles Adam’s hair, almost affectionately. “Something nefarious, for sure.” He avoids touching the horns. They remind him of the devil, and the fact that he was supposed to be killing the man who mutilated Yang and ran Blake out of the area. He would probably stick with the religious connotations to avoid thinking about the latter.

            A genuine smile slathered Adam’s lips. “I get it, I’m the bad boy.”

            “I’m not gonna punish you, you kinky bastard,” Sun said.

            “Nah, I wouldn’t let you go that far.”

            Sun let go of Adam’s blazer and moved his hand from Adam’s hair down to the nape of his neck to draw him in for a kiss. It was much too soft. The guy who worked with both Cinder Fall and consequently Roman Torchwick should have kissed hard and bluntly, with sharp teeth and clacking and moaning and wetness. Instead, Sun could tell he used Chapstick.

            Withdrawing to swipe his mouth across the back of his hand, Sun asked, “Then how far am I allowed to go?”

            Adam tossed the thought back and forth. It was nice, to tell what he was thinking. Sun would have never gotten to this point if the mask was still on.

            Finally, Adam said, “Just don’t spank me.”

            It wasn’t Sun’s fault that he laughed; the statement was too damn much for him to handle. “What- what the fuck?” Sun choked, near the verge of tears as his body shuddered. His legs fell loosely from Adam’s waist as he clutched at himself, as if to physically keep his composure together. Of course, it was already in shards by the time Adam posed the statement.

            And poor Adam blushed fiercely and wildly, like a forest fire burning across his face. “Well, you fucking asked, asshole!”

            Sun wiped his face on the shoulder of his shirt, giggling madly. “You are _so_ afraid of humiliation that it is goddamn hilarious.” Even as Sun laughed, Adam’s hands met his thighs, pulling them further apart for Adam to reunite in the middle as a bridge, and he shoved _his_ fingers in _Sun’s_ hair and yanked him in for a kiss, hard and needy and as distracting as the burning desire for sex could possibly be. This time, the kiss bordered on Sun’s prediction for roughness, though still kept an undercurrent of soft and plain want, sweet and smelling like blossoms beneath the carnage of Adam’s whiskey mouth. (Again with the whiskey; what a fucking stereotype. Sun was beginning to think that Adam was truthfully a total nerd who pulled the mask and alcohol shit for the sole purpose of appearance, but that was just it; Sun was _beginning_ to think. Adam’s mouth wouldn’t allow him to finish.) Without conscious decision, Sun’s legs wound around Adam’s waist again, and he pressed Adam closer, the bare skin between the parted curtains of Sun’s shirt rubbing flatly on the silk of Adam’s blazer. And Sun was moaning, quietly, into the recesses of Adam’s mouth, as Adam shoved at Sun’s shirt, Sun shrugged it off, the shirt was dropped to the floor in a heap, followed by the disposal of Adam’s blazer and undershirt.

            “Look at us,” Adam panted. “Like fucking teenagers.” He met Sun’s eye. “Don’t take it to heart, I love your enthusiasm.”

            “Shut the fuck up, Mr. Taurus,” Sun retorted, devoid of venom.

            “I don’t think either of us would appreciate the silence.” However, Adam stopped talking to mouth at Sun’s neck, dragging his teeth gently over the layers of bone, skin, and muscle. Sun bit his lip; here was the guilt, back as Adam worked over his bare shoulders, his pectorals, his abdomen, leaving behind a trail of moisture, a mark to be evaporated. No one would ever have to know.

            And yet, Sun knew this had to be how Blake felt. Every. Damn. Time. At one point, before, Sun had wondered how someone as intelligent as Blake had been dumb enough to keep coming back to Adam.

            This was the whiskey. Again, his thoughts turned back to Qrow. This was Sun’s first addiction.

            The train of thought was derailed as Sun’s hands tightened in Adam’s hair; Adam was bent over haphazardly, licking at the bottom of the faint happy trail emerging from the horizon of Sun’s jeans. “Please,” he gasped as Adam yanked the zipper down, pushed down the elastic band of his boxers, pulled out the length of Sun’s cock, hard.

“Please, Adam, fuck,” as Adam breathed wetly, hungrily over the head.

“God fucking dammit,” as Adam took his first slow lick before pulling Sun into his mouth.

“Fuck. A-Adam. Fucking. Fuck,” as Adam took him deeper.

Adam’s hands curled into fists on Sun’s thighs, pinching at the layer of jeans. Sun wanted the jeans off, everything off, but it would be too much trouble to remove Adam’s mouth and clumsy off the clothes. Adam swallowed, and Sun’s head hit a cabinet, lips falling apart as he released the tension of his jaw.

After a deliberately deep motion on Adam’s part, Sun yanked his hair to pull Adam off, panting, “Stop before it’s too late.”

Adam grinned up at Sun loosely, hair still caught in Sun’s grip. “Would you believe me if I said that was my first blowjob?”

“Fuck no.” Sun leaned forward to meet Adam in a messy kiss, his tongue swiping between Adam’s lips shallowly as Adam opened himself to Sun. Sun moved both hands to Adam’s shoulders; and dammit, he didn’t mean to squeeze, but how else was he supposed to keep still?

When they pulled apart, Adam said, “Good, because that would make me a dirty liar.”

Sun worked his hands into the back of Adam’s pants, ghosting over his ass before sliding the garments down. “You’re already one of the two, but I’m not sure which.”

“I don’t think you would fuck someone you don’t trust.” Adam yanked at Sun’s pants, following Sun’s order of operations. He got Sun’s boxers down before Sun could push down Adam’s; hey, it wasn’t Sun’s fault that Adam’s pants had all those weird clasps. Shit was confusing.

Sun had a hard time not staring at Adam after both were deemed full nakedness, clothes all settled in the same pile from earlier. “God, you’re pale.” And pretty damn big.

Adam rolled his eyes. “Not all of us can get away with being shirtless all the time.”

“I wear a shirt!” Sun protested.

“Ever heard of buttons?”

“Well,” Sun said, eyeing Adam’s chest, “I’m pretty sure no one would complain if you took up my technique.”

“It’s an invitation to get stabbed,” Adam said.

Sun found himself crossing his arms. Was Adam really rubbing off on him already? He uncrossed and retorted, “No, the stabbings are just because you’re you.”

Sun could see the argument brewing in Adam’s eyes, could feel the build of heat. To his surprise, Adam said, “I guess I can’t argue with that,” and put his hands back on Sun’s thighs, a welcomed warmth in contrast to the cold of the counter on Sun’s bare ass.

Once again, Sun was reminded of the wrongness of the situation.

Once again, Sun shrugged it off in favor of running his hands along Adam’s sides, deliberating in trace-patterns of what would look like henna if his fingers left marks, stopping at his waist. He met eyes with Adam and said, “I think I need some clarification on something.”

“Yeah? What?” Adam’s thumbs ran circles over Sun’s thighs.

It was a dumb but important question. “Who’s topping?”

The circles stopped dead. “You like bottoming, right?”

Sun couldn’t help it; he blushed. “No, not really.”

Frowning, Adam took in the redness of Sun’s cheeks. “But you’re blushing; that’s a total bottom thing to do.”

Sun shook his head. “I want you to bottom.”

“No way.”

“I swear it isn’t gonna emasculate you to take a dick up the ass.”

“Pinkie promise?” The sarcasm was thick enough to belong in a sitcom.

And then the theoretical lightbulb lit up brilliantly, shot with thousands and thousands of watts of energy. Sun thought he may explode from his own genius, high on the fact that his idea was going to work so effectively. Sun put on a casual expressing, hooded eyes and all, and shrugged. “It’s alright if you’re scared.”

Adam bared his teeth. Sun visualized steam blaring from his nose, funneled from the two nostrils with a hammock-like septum piercing in between. Hooves carving into dirt, ready to charge. The points of some very, very real horns, peaking over the spikiness of Adam’s hair. Were they long enough to harm someone, if push came to shove? He had a feeling he would find out, from the wrong side of the situation, at some point.

And still, Sun stretched, pushed his arms into the air like there wasn’t a distinct heaviness to the aura Adam exuded at the challenge Sun presented, like a gift. “I can go slow with you, if you need me to.” He imagined the red of a target painted across his chest, draped over the skin, like blood.

Slowly, Adam said, “I’m not scared.”

Slowly, Sun said, “Like I said, it’s fine if you are. I’m not gonna judge, bro.”

Their eyes held a charge, drawn from the electric wire of their unbroken gaze. Neither could let go, irises held in place by the shock, muscles that couldn’t unclench from the glare of willpower beneath. Sun waited.

Adam said, “Okay.”

It was that easy.

It was that obvious to tell that Adam really, truly, and deeply didn’t have a huge connection with topping to begin with. Sun didn’t have a huge problem with this, either.

            He slid off the counter, feet hitting linoleum in a muted tap. Sun stepped to the side and smacked the counter. “You wanna face me or give me your ass? It’s not gonna hurt my feelings either way, I promise.”

            Adam didn’t even have the heart to make an irked expression; he merely looked upward, in thought. He said, “You’re gonna spank me regardless of what happens. Just to prove a point.”

            Smug, Sun said nothing.

            Adam sighed. “Might as well dive in and give you the ass, then. Jesus fucking hell.” He moved forward to the counter and placed his hands on top, elbows straightened. Sun knew this would soon change. Adam’s lower stomach nudged into the edge of the countertop. It would leave red lines, later, from being pressed into the edge, giving way for indentation of skin. It would look nice, to contrast the paleness, like the blush had earlier. Red complemented Adam like thorns complimented a rose.

            Placing his hands over Adam’s ribs, Sun moved downward lightly, ghosting the tips of his fingers over the ridges of bones, muscle, joints, structure. Massage therapists used soft movements above the skin to bring blood forth, to increase reaction, to increase relaxation. Sun pushed into the harsh blades of Adam’s composition gently, tried to smooth him out. Blake gave Sun this technique a few weeks before the Vytal Festival began and everything went to shit. The technique was part of a book she was reading, about methods towards keeping calm. Massages were a large part of the book, made up more of it than Sun would have expected. The stuff was interesting, though, when Blake read aloud while they sipped at the café, or Sun dragged her up a tree in a park somewhere. She read bits and pieces to Yang, too. She worried about Yang.

            Hell. At this point, they all worried about Yang.

            Sun felt his fingernails bite into Adam’s skin, and Adam hissed quietly, trying to keep the pain a secret. _This_ was what Adam expected, not softness, not sweetness.

            In all honesty, this was what Adam deserved. He deserved to be shredded, ripped apart, sewn back together and destroyed again, desecrated like a monument to the suffering he caused.

And Sun couldn’t make himself do it. He withdrew the violence within himself, smeared it into the faintness of the challenge he was supposed to take part in. The spanking wouldn’t be part of the rage he felt seconds before; like Adam said, it would be proving a point.

And so, Sun returned to passion.

“You got lube?” Sun asked, faintly tracing his hands over Adam’s chest, glossing over the nipples. “I wasn’t really planning on fucking you when I came over. Otherwise, I would’ve brought the shit myself.”

Nodding, Adam said, “Hold on.” Sun let him up, and Adam walked out of the kitchen, down through the living room to the only other room in the house. He disappeared behind the door and returned swiftly, a medium-sized tube in hand. Never had Sun envisioned seeing a naked Adam Taurus bring him lube with a mildly embarrassed expression on his face.

It was a nice sight.

Adam returned to the counter, palms down, facing toward the cabinets as Sun squeezed the contents of the half-empty tube onto his left index finger. He made a fist, swirling the slick substance over the other fingers of the hand. It was a ridiculously difficult procedure, considering the simple actions that would follow.

Adam looked over his shoulder. “Use your other hand, for God’s sake.”

Glaring at Adam, Sun said, “Fine. Just so you know, I was trying to prevent getting lube everywhere. But now it’s gonna be in your hair.” He used his right hand to spread the lube across all his left fingers. The residue on his right hand was going to make things messy. “This could’ve been avoided, asshole.”

“Oh shut the fuck up,” Adam snapped.

Sun gave him a smack on the ass, made stinging because of the lube. “You wanna say that again?” he asked, rubbing the newly-created handprint into Adam’s skin.

“Fuck you,” Adam mumbled. There was less spirit in his insult, this time. There was a note of want.

Rolling his eyes, Sun said, “You told me you didn’t like being spanked, and I honestly don’t think I believe you anymore. But I’ll leave you alone.” He gave Adam’s ass a halfhearted tap and let go. “Let’s get down to business.” He moved his left hand between Adam’s legs and rubbed up between Adam’s ass cheeks, then back down toward the center. He paused. “Did you really like it, though? The spanking?”

Adam said, “Better than I expected, but that’s not saying much.”

“Well, do you want me to do it again?” Sun eased his middle finger into Adam shallowly, only to the first joint before easing back out. Adam was tight, but not tense. He pushed back in, to the second joint, moving towards the knuckle slowly, other hand settling on Adam’s hip.

Adam shifted and groaned. Then, he said, “Yes.”

“Really? That’s interesting.” Sun withdrew, then pushed with the addition of an index finger. “You wanna tell me what you found to be enjoyable about it?”

“I- fuck.” Adam broke off into a low moan, clenched between his teeth and whistling through his lips like a vibration he couldn’t contain. Sun could feel him push back into his fingers, seeking more.

Both fingers slid to the knuckles. Sun had the audacity to curl inside of Adam, which was immediately serenaded by Adam’s gasp. “C’mon, you still haven’t told me what you liked about the spanking. I’m interested.”

Already shaky, Adam breathed and said, “It’s hot.”

Sun curled again, earning a curse. “More detail.”

“The pain. It’s nice. I like the sting.” Adam moaned again as Sun added a third finger, only giving Adam a shallow fucking. Sun was still on fingers and Adam was already broken down to single-syllable words.

“That’s better. You should work on the detail thing a little more, but not bad.” Sun pulled his fingers out smoothly and rubbed them over his cock, using the excess lube to prep himself.

Adam whined, “Fucking hurry up.”

“What I’m hearing is incentive to slow down.” Even as he said it, Sun felt the urgency build within himself, to fuck into Adam until neither could handle the sensation.

“Please.”

It was a needy sound that drove Sun mad, made his hands hot and heart fast. He rubbed himself once more, for Adam’s sake. Regardless of the mounting desire of Adam’s libido, he had to make sure there was no chance of dryness. He didn’t want to rip Adam apart.

Sun lined his cock up with Adam’s entrance and pushed inward gently, as Adam fell to shivers. Sun used one hand to direct himself and the other to grab Adam’s shoulder, hold him steady. He felt himself enveloped quickly, faster than he would have believed.

“Sun. Fuck.” Adam rolled back into the sensation, and Sun was suddenly buried.

With his cock inside Adam, Sun put the hand to use in Adam’s hair, messily disseminating the fine spiked style that Adam had assembled earlier. “Told you there’d be lube in your hair,” he mumbled, short of breath, barely present in the apartment aside from the growing fucking motion he pushed into Adam’s hips like a mechanized movement in repetition.

“You’re gonna fucking wreck me,” Adam responded, somehow more cognizant than he had been earlier, freed from the single-syllable curse. “And I fucking love it.”

Sun yanked his hair, pulling Adam’s head back with it. In Adam’s ear, he whispered, “You’d let me do anything I wanted to you, wouldn’t you. Anything. As long as I’m fucking you, you don’t care. You’re so goddamn hot and needy for me, aren’t you. You’re mine.”

“Yes,” Adam panted, mouth wide with gasping. Sun sucked a hickie into the expanse of his neck, fucking forward, forward, hard. Adam leaned into Sun’s teeth, the bruise making itself like a plant sustains itself but from the friction rather than sunlight, born into creation, a small and dark nebula formed under Adam’s jaw, beneath the initial redness. The raw red was a flare, embers curling into stars beneath their eyes, like destiny, and God, Sun could even believe in fate and Romeo and Juliet and _two star-crossed lovers_ when the fucking was this good, into Adam’s tight ass, into everything Sun’s ever hated about himself and violent tendency and crying into the night and cherry blossoms in the spring without her but with Adam because it’s spreading across his body like fire, like it’s fucking beautiful, and all the anger Sun felt ever since Blake ran away because it’s not just Sun that she left, it’s Adam too, it’s Yang, it’s all of them and Blake’s never gonna fucking come back so why even fucking worry about her.

It’s not her feelings that he was hurting by fucking Adam, anyways.

Some people consider promiscuity a form of self-harm.

Sun fucked into Adam hard, a temptation he should have sworn off after Yang’s arm was severed. It’s not still considered a temptation during the act of committing the sin, is it? There was significance building in the stress between Sun’s backbones, a hurt caused by something absolutely fucking unforgivable, in giving pleasure to someone that should be dead, should have been killed long ago, should not be crying out Sun’s name, should not, should not at all. It wasn’t like this didn’t all feel fucking amazing and horrible all at once. Sun felt himself tugged in riptide, the smooth coolness of the ocean in contrast with the burning atmosphere, a crumpling ozone layer alight in the summer, and he knew that he will drown. He was intensely jealous of Neptune. He would have never died in the water if he would have learned to be afraid.

Some people consider being brave to be a danger.

“I’m so fucking close,” Adam gasped. Sun smacked him on the ass, hard, unforgiving, and he could tell that Adam loved it, he never would have done it if he thought otherwise. Adam’s body trembled, an earthquake, an undoing of all foundation. Sun held him steady, made sure Adam did not fall to the ground, because he could feel the unsteadiness of Adam’s legs, could hear his knees bang into the lower cabinets, repeatedly, like a knock-knock joke that never got past the punchline.

Sun’s hand wrapped around Adam’s cock and fucked at the same pace his hips, an extension of the action he was already deep into. Adam yelled, shredding his lungs like paper, and Sun could tell that if anything will hurt this afternoon, it will be Adam’s larynx, given over to larger purpose as the voice of desire, of want, of need, of lust.

It’s sick, that Adam, a mass-murderer, has committed a lesser sin than Sun.

Fucking in deep and hard and fast and everything that Sun has got within his essence, Sun said, “Fucking cum for me,” and felt Adam spill over his fingers, his knuckles, and he kept stroking, kept burying himself deeper and deeper, dug the hole until he couldn’t see his way out and finally releasing himself like something he’s kept inside for much too long and crying out so hard that he felt like he was actually going to die.

He felt like. He was actually. Going. To die.

What a way to go, hilt-deep in Adam Taurus. Sun’s sobs stuttered in his throat and when he finished shaking, he pulled out of Adam, let go of his hair, stepped backward and slammed into the wall. The sweat across his skin was unbearable. His skin was unbearable. Unbearable. He was unbearable.

Adam still faced away, on his elbows over the counter, bent over with cum seeping out of his ass. Yes, variations of red marked his body, thanks to Sun’s ministrations. Cherry blossoms and whatnot. But there was also cum. And it all painted a dirty, guilty picture. Sun picked his clothes up off the floor and took them to his side of the kitchen, where he pulled on his underwear.

Adam turned around, finally recovered from his landslide of an orgasm. “Damn. That was good.” He blinked. “You’re leaving early.”

Gritting his teeth, Sun said, “Yeah.” He pulled on his pants, not troubled enough to fasten them, and shrugs his shirt on. He looked up expectantly at Adam.

There was a soft sadness beneath Adam’s eyes. Sun could suddenly believe that they were both left behind by the same girl. He could feel the same weight anchored in his throat, preventing him from speaking.

Adam raised a hand. A goodbye, barely.

Sun didn’t nod. But he knew, and Adam knew. There was a promise in the air, with the fall of cherry petals, serenaded by the sun of late spring. There was wind. There was light, quiet and pink, a whisper.

There was a promise in the air; a promise they intended to break.


End file.
